


We Used To Be Friends

by afewreelthoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veronica Mars Fusion, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder Mystery, other canon pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: The mysterious death of a beloved classmate turns Brienne Tarth's world upside-down. But she's a teenager, and supposed to be having a normal year, right? As least that's what everyone tells her.But when new information changes what she thought she knew about the case, she finds that she cannot stay away, and teams up with unlikely ally Jaime Lannister to find answers and, hopefully, justice.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	We Used To Be Friends

**Author's Note:**

> The narrative device "They said it was suicide... but was it?" will be used throughout this story, and some characters are going to argue one way or the other with a certain amount of ignorance about suicide and self-harm. This is necessary for the story, but I know it might be upsetting to read about.
> 
> Other specific content warnings will be added to the tags and the notes in upcoming chapters. 
> 
> I've been working on this fic on and off for years, but I know that by the time I've posted this chapter, it's one of at least two works that share this specific AU. angelowl's dark and delightful "come on now, baby girl" starts with a different main murder and adapts different parts of both canons, so I feel like our takes on the AU are unique enough to warrant posting this.
> 
> I own nothing and make no money from this. Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin.

_"The old gods stir and will not let me sleep," she heard the woman say. "I dreamt I saw a shadow with a burning heart butchering a golden stag." ~ ASOS Arya IV_

Brienne's scraped knees peeked out from the hem of her dress, and she looked down at them, sitting quietly in the backseat of Mrs. Stark's car. The dress had been Mrs. Stark's idea when she discovered Brienne crying over her clothes on Monday. "There's gonna be an assembly for him at school and all my clothes are stupid," she remembered screaming. It wasn't right to wear her normal oversize shirts and gym shorts to commemorate him dying - anyone dying - and all her dresses and "girly clothes" that still fit were too bright, too childish.

So Mrs. Stark had bought her the dress, in a navy blue so dark it was almost black. It covered her down to her knees and had a tall neckline, short sleeves. "I know you like modest things," she had said with a well-meaning smile. Brienne's heart hurt at the gesture, but, wearing a dress for the first time in years, she found that she hated having her gawky long limbs on display. She had ended up wearing tall socks with it; her unshaven legs seemed out of place with a dress so nice, and trying to shave them, her hand had slipped more than once, so she gave up. 

Brienne ran a hand along the leather seat of the car. She was always impressed with Mrs. Stark's car, a seven-seat SUV, the latest model of its kind, and a relic of the family's life before... all of this. It had been bought earlier that very year, sparing no expense in terms of safety, efficiency, and amenities, and Mrs. Stark kept it impeccably clean, not a single piece of trash lingering beneath the seats, not a scratch on it, waxed and scrubbed to a glaring shine. For months, it had been the subject of jokes between Robb and his mother. 

_"I'm turning sixteen in September, and you know what that means, Mom?"_

_"That you get to sit in the front seat?"_

_"I get my license!"_

_"We'll pick out a car for you as a family. How's that?"_

_He grinned his perfect grin at her. "But we already have such a nice one!"_

_"Not on your life, sweetie," she said sweetly, tucking his curls behind his ears._

Brienne looked out the window, where the shapes before her turned from mansions to modest homes to cheap apartment buildings. Anything to distract her. 

The silence was unbearable. Within it, a single thought pushed in at her, clawed at her. That she'd become what she swore she would never be to the Starks: a burden.

Brienne remembered traveling with her father as a kid, as he moved from place to place. She couldn't remember if she'd liked it, but it had been exciting. When she was in middle school, he settled them in King's Landing.

"It will be good for you to settle somewhere and get actual friends your age," he had said. 

She wanted to agree with him, but all the kids everywhere they'd moved had made fun of her, more now because she'd been the tallest kid in fifth grade and wouldn't stop growing. She didn't look like the other girls, and they usually resented her for it. She knew her father wanted the best for her, so she smiled and nodded, but it hurt. The kids in King's Landing were no different - worse, actually, because they could afford to be. But the Starks were nice. Robb was nice. Jon was nice. She never thought of either of them as anything more than nice, though. From her first day of school, she had been too busy staring at Renly. 

So every time her dad had been deployed, she'd stay with the Starks. For a summer or an autumn, she was one of the family. Then, sometime last winter, her father had called her to say that he wouldn't be back in the spring. "They're keeping us here for a while this time."

"How long?" 

"A long time, honey." 

Mrs. Stark had taken Brienne in full-time without a second thought. But that had been when the Starks had lived in one of those mansions they had just passed by, when they'd had rooms to spare. She had sworn then not cause any trouble for them and sworn it double when they packed up the mansion for a pair of apartments on the other side of town. Brienne had told herself that as she'd given away some of her childhood toys, the ones that Arya, Bran, and Rickon didn't want. She wasn't really giving that much away, anyway. Most of her things and her father's were in a high-security storage unit with the Westerosi Army Reserve. All ready for when he'd come back. 

_I won't be a burden on them._

Brienne curled around her bloody knees and made herself as small as possible.

She'd broken all those promises today when she'd broken Jaime Lannister's nose. She'd never been in a fight before. And this was barely even one. It was an accident more than anything. 

A few days after Renly died, his death was declared "an open-and-shut case of suicide," as she'd heard Mrs. Stark saying when she thought Brienne wasn't listening. So the school had taken the opportunity to turn the assembly about his death into a seminar on suicide prevention, with helpful tips like "Talk to your friends," and "Remember the good things in life." Brienne sat quietly, ugly in her pretty dress, as Margaery Tyrell, her thick hair flattened and curled into perfect ringlets, cried over the few words she'd written and as their counselor Mr. Seaworth flashed his contact information on a giant projector screen. 

Walking back to class, she found herself walking behind Jaime and Tyrion Lannister. Jaime held his letterman jacket tossed over one shoulder, carelessly hanging from a two fingers, and like always, he had something to say. 

“As if he wasn’t the fucking bully!" were his exact choice of words. 

“Just because people liked Renly more than they liked you doesn’t make him a bully, Jaime,” Tyrion said. 

Brienne had always liked Tyrion. He had approached her on her first day at King's Landing High School. At first she had not seen him, and when he cleared his throat, and she finally looked down, she had blushed. But before she could apologize, he grinned and said, “Brienne Tarth, right?” 

“…yes?”

“Tyrion Lannister. They’re looking at you the same way they look at me, so I believe we’re natural allies,” he had said, and then just walked away. The few other times he spoke to her had been just as spontaneous, just as unusual. She was charmed by him and by both his crass and pretentious turns of phrase. 

"Fuck you, Tyrion," Jaime said, "you know he was making fun of you when he wasn't bumming a joint." 

"I'm not saying you don't have a point. I just think it's ghoulish to say shit like that about a dead guy."

"But they're making this up, and you know it!" Jaime's voice was getting louder, echoing down the polished hallways. “Now he's dead, so we’re all supposed to forget he was a douche? Pretend he was this sad, suicidal angel and cry about it? This school is bullshit.”

The next thing Brienne knew, Jaime was flat on his back on the floor, and she was on top of him.

“Shut up! SHUT UP!" She was shaking him, tears streaming down her face and half blinding her. _"Shut up!"_

"Get off my brother, you freak!" she heard someone scream.

And then there were hands in her hair, yanking her backwards, and the pain was so sharp, so surprising, that Brienne flailed without thinking, trying to get away. One of her feet must have caught on Jaime's face, still splayed out on the ground, because the next thing she knew, Cersei Lannister had let go of her and was bending over her brother, a red river running out of his nose.

Then they were bustled, all three of them, into uncomfortable chairs in the principal's office, where Tywin Lannister materialized to yell, red-faced at Brienne, at the teacher watching over them, and then at his own children. 

" _Nothing_ is more important than this family's good name. _Nothing!_ I won't have my children getting into schoolyard fights, even with awful, common girls." 

"She started it," Cersei said, sulking from two chairs over. 

"I'm sorry. It was an accident, sir," Brienne said. 

Tywin dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Too stupid to know her own strength," he muttered. 

Brienne wondered whether she ought to be offended, whether she would have been offended if she hadn't been so in shock, and then, on top of it all, that it must suck for Cersei and Jaime and Tyrion to have their dad be the mayor. 

Now the shame of it all flooded over her all the silent drive back to the Starks' apartments, and when they finally parked next to their building, she blurted it out. 

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Stark! I'm so sorry, it just happened! I had no idea what was going on, but I'm sorry, I really am." 

Mrs. Stark looked calmly at Brienne in the rearview mirror. "Things like this don't just _happen_ , Brienne," she said. "Whether you meant to hurt him or not, there's always a reason." She opened the door. "I don't believe in accidents." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brienne spent the summer at the Starks' new apartments, with the occasional update from her father - "Still not sure when I'm coming home, honey." Sansa and Arya hated what they called "living on top of each other" without school to distract them. Brienne thought the company was a welcome change from the quiet house she rented with her father when he wasn't away, and the noise distracted her from her own head and the knowledge that Renly Baratheon wasn't gone on vacation. He was gone. 

The time went by altogether too fast, and then she was back in the hallways of high school, with new locker and homeroom assignments.

And unfortunately, so was everyone else.

The sharply pretty face of Jaime Lannister came into focus as Brienne was dropping books off in her locker. She knew "pretty" wasn't a word she should use to describe boys, but sometimes they just... were. 

He leaned against the wall and gave her what he probably thought was a dazzling grin. 

"How you doin' there, Tarth?"

He called people by their last names, like the villain in a British schoolboy novel.

"Fine," she said. 

"No hard feelings, but I'm hoping there's no fights this year? Pinkie-promise.” He held out his pinkie, as though she was actually supposed to take him up on it. "I know I talk a lot of shit."

“Then maybe you shouldn’t talk so much shit," Brienne said, shutting her locker. 

"I've tried. Never lasts for long."

Something about the way he said it made the air darker around her, sent a tingle down her spine. 

Unsure of what to say in response, she ended up staring at his nose, at how perfectly straight it had remained, despite the injury that she caused. 

"Your nose... looks good," she said.

"I thought the break looked badass, but my father wouldn't have it any other way," Jaime said. "See ya around, Tarth." 

The morning bell rang, and as Brienne raced to her first class, keeping her eyes on the tile floor, she remember that this place wasn't normal. She'd lived all across Westeros, so she should know. Things here simply weren't normal and shouldn't be treated as such. _Hi, I'm a Lannister. My father bought my plastic surgery this summer._

This year wouldn't be too difficult. All she had to do was not think of Renly too much, or of her father facing combat in the North, go to her classes, do her homework. Survive this year. Then the next. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day felt like it lasted a year, and Brienne nearly fell asleep on the bus back to the Starks' apartments. When she unlocked the front door, the living room/kitchen was completely empty. Sansa and Robb were staying late at school that day, she remembered, and Jon was usually out with friends. Mrs. Stark was probably somewhere with her younger kids.

Brienne dropped her bags on the ground, head spinning and not sure if she should be grateful for the quiet or if she would start sobbing any minute now. 

She poured herself a glass of water for something to do, and because she was thirsty. Next to the paper towels, the contents of a beige folder had half spilled onto the counter. From the looks of it, it was a case file. Mrs. Stark's husband had been the sheriff before everything that happened this spring, and she still worked as a PI when she could spare the time, so Brienne was used to seeing case files around. She was also used to avoiding them. 

It was probably Mr. Stark's own file. After Tywin had him arrested for "corruption and gross mismanagement of his position" after Robert Baratheon's death, Mrs. Stark had been ferocious in seeking an appeal for her husband. It hadn't happened yet. 

Brienne didn't know if Mrs. Stark was even supposed to have this folder. Weren't things like this supposed to stay in the care of the police? She pulled at the corner of one of the photos, and her heart skipped a beat. 

It was Renly.

It was the picture that she was never meant to see, that Mrs. Stark had forbade her from seeing. But no words could keep anyone safe from a story like this. 

Renly lay on his back on the green grass outside his bedroom window, still in his suit from prom, limbs splayed at unnatural angles like a discarded marionette. His plastic crown lay next to one open hand. He must have been wearing it when he fell. 

Brienne had seen this picture before, and just like before, she could not look away from it. She wondered once again whether he had died from the fall or lain there in pain before his body was discovered. The answer lay somewhere in this folder, if she wanted to look.

Her stomach churned. She pushed the photo aside, only to see the others beneath it. 

She felt the blood rush to her face. So these were the photos. _The_ photos. The "most explicit photographs ever admitted as evidence to the King's Landing Police Department."

Stannis Baratheon, who had been the one to discover his brother's body, had been at Tywin Lannister's benefit dinner when it happened, and when he was asked to corroborate that alibi, he said that he'd been locked in one of the many guest bedrooms with his date and that he had the photos to prove it. Evidently, someone questioning him had thought that these photos were a little _too_ convenient, so Stannis had invited the officers to scroll through his phone, where they found dozens of similarly explicit pictures taken in the weeks beforehand, all of him and the same woman. 

"Don't know what else to take from this investigation so far," the radio host had said, before Mrs. Stark could change the channel, "but Stannis Baratheon _fucks_."

Brienne picked up the pile of photos and carefully pulled at the paper beneath them. 

_"What are you doing?"_

The photos and folder were snatched from Brienne's hands, and she turned a darker shade of red.

Mrs. Stark looked down at her with fire in her eyes. It didn't matter that Brienne was taller than her, she always managed to look down when she needed to.

Brienne looked at the scratched linoleum floor. "It was just there."

"Even if it was, Brienne, you do not go around poking through other people's things." 

"I'm sorry," she said. 

"What did you see?" Mrs. Stark said, carefully tucking the photos back into a pocket inside the folder. 

"Just a couple photos. Nothing I haven't seen before."

Mrs. Stark raised an eyebrow.

"Okay well I hadn't _seen_ Stannis's evidence, but I knew what it was." 

"I suppose there's no harm done then," she said warmly and rubbed a hand on Brienne's shoulder. "I'm sorry for flying off the handle like that." 

"Has the case been reopened?" Brienne said. "Are you working with detectives on it?" 

Mrs. Stark sighed heavily, like she resented the change in topic away, but felt obligated to go along with it. 

"Not technically," she said, "But Mr. Baelish knows me and he says it's all above board." She smiled conspiratorially at Brienne. "He doesn't know I made copies."

"Then why do you have the... copies?" 

Mrs. Stark's brows knit together. Brienne could tell she was thinking carefully about her next words. When she spoke, she spoke slowly. 

"Something about this case never sat right with me. But when it all happened, I was so busy thinking about Ned that I wasn't really able to focus."

"Could I... could I..." Brienne breathed deeply, and it hurt. "Could I help?"

"Oh, honey..." Mrs. Stark looked up at her so softly it made Brienne want to apologize all over again. "You broke Jaime Lannister's nose when he said something rude about Renly, Brienne. It's perfectly normal to be upset over a classmate dying, especially someone you really cared about. But that's also exactly why you shouldn't get anywhere near this case." She opened the refrigerator door. "You're a kid, you should be doing kid things!"

"Kid things?"

"Playing on the beach, going shopping, going out with boys! You know?" 

Brienne had never been good at any of that. 

"Tell you what, I'll let you help with my PI cases over the weekends," Mrs. Stark said, setting down the case folder and beginning to pour them both her homemade ice tea. "Would that be fun?"

 _Fun?_ Brienne thought. _Somebody might have_ killed _Renly and I'm supposed to think of_ fun _?_

"I love you like you're my own daughter, Brienne," she said, handing her a cold glass, "and I promised your father I'd take care of you." 

Brienne thought she was going to cry right then and there. She knew Mrs. Stark cared about her, but hearing it said out loud... 

Brienne really was ungrateful, wasn't she? Mr. Tarly had said the same thing last year.

Brienne nodded. 

"And I might have a bee in my bonnet for nothing," Mrs. Stark said with a smile. "My instincts aren't always right. Please tell me you'll try to put it out of mind."

Brienne nodded again.

Mrs. Stark switched on the television. "How about some TV before everyone gets home?"

 _Out of mind_ , Brienne thought as she sank into the couch and the sounds of an old sitcom filled the small living room. _Out of sight and out of mind._ She sighed and sipped her tea. _I guess I can do that._

_For now,_ a small voice in her head whispered. _For now..._


End file.
